Sherlock Recorded
by Dancing Eyes
Summary: Sherlock has a new experiment, and John is not amused.


"Sherlock!" John called out as he walked in the flat, setting down the groceries he'd picked up on the way home from work.

"Hello John." Sherlock's voice called out.

"Where are you?" John asked, peering his head around the door.

"John, it's obvious by the slight wrrring sound that this is merely a recording. I'm conducting an experiment."

"What kind of experiment? And am I literally talking to a machine right now?"

"Yes John this is a machine, I testing my ability to forecast our conversations. I've been studying your after work habits as well as your reactions when I begin a new experiment. This is my test, this has all been prerecorded, and I'd like to have a conversation with you and see how this goes."

"Um…okay? Erm, what do you want to talk about, exactly?"

"Really John, you can't come up with a single topic to discuss? After you talk to people all day about meaningless chatter, you can say nothing intelligent to me?" Sherlock's voice retorted.

"Sorry," John apologized, "Hang it all, this is ridiculous! You're not even here! This is just a recording…a really creepy recording." He muttered under his breath. "You've got to be here somewhere, listening to what I say and responding."

"I assure you John I am not even on the premises; you are being taped so I may examine the footage carefully when this is done."

"And this will be done….when?" John asked, putting his head in his hands to ward off a headache.

"It's a normal conversation John, how long are normal conversations normally?"

John rolled his eyes, "You're going to tell me exactly what the average conversation length is, aren't you?"

"Of course, three minutes 15 seconds, at least on the phone but I believe that's applicable in this circumstance."

John had had enough; he had enjoyed work and looked forward to having a relaxing evening. Make some tea, not be the victim of yet another weird wacky experiment that HAD NO POINT WHATSOEVER.

"John it's quite rude to say nothing when one's having a conversation." Sherlock's voice broke through John's rants.

"Seriously, now you know when I _pause?_" John asked skeptically.

"Have I mentioned I'm a genius? You have on multiple occasions, hmm this isn't a very entertaining conversation John, I'm getting bored."

John rolled his eyes again, I am not going to talk to him. Or this recording…thing. Nope, and he can't make me.

"Really John, do you really think I can't just converse if you're not responding. You've done it to me several times, enough to know your own responses and what to say if you don't talk. Come on! Challenge me!" He roared.

"Kittens! Buttons! Jumpers and Jam!" John flustered out.

"There you go, nice. Jumpers? Of course I could see that one coming, the one you're wearing is itchy. It's been irritating you all day, of course it comes to mind first. You're hungry so you would say jam because you think tea would be to obvious, but now you're even more hungry than you thought you'd be."

"Ha! You didn't think of the kittens or buttons!" John said, victorious.

"I was getting to them John, no need to interrupt. Your new vet girlfriend was sending you pictures of kittens all day, you probably just picked up your phone and got them. Your coat's buttons were pulled off in the chase three days ago, you were wondering where they went."

"This is ridiculous. I am NOT talking to a machine."

"You did when you went to the store, had a row with the machine if I recall correctly."

"That was one time!" John retorted.

"No matter." Sherlock said.

Suddenly there was a loud crash. "Mrs. Hudson!" John ran down stairs, to see Mrs. Hudson had merely dropped her tray of tarts. "Are you alright?"

"Of course deary, I'm sorry I didn't mean to startle you." Mrs. Hudson told him apologetically, "I guess I'll just have to throw these out."

"Let me help." John helped Mrs. Hudson tidy everything up. He got back to his own flat and chuckled to himself, there was no way that recording could have anticipated that, right? Then John groaned, he'd just jinxed himself, hadn't he? I mean this was Sherlock Holmes, he knew everything! Well, all the smart things. Not quite the genius at gardening (now that had been an utter mess) or astronomy.

He pushed his way in, and heard the recording say, "John? Was Mrs. Hudson okay?" Why had he ever doubted.


End file.
